Getting Out is Worse

Today at the lake….I learned that getting out of the water after my swim is harder and way more unpleasant than getting in the water.

Today I had two people with me, a swim buddy, and a guy who arrived at the same time. I suggested we all go in together so we wouldn’t back out. My buddy had all the gear: wetsuit, neoprene cap, booties, and gloves. I had two swim caps, my FiveFingers shoes, which somehow keep my feet warm, and my ridiculous waterproof running gloves. They guy just had shorts on. It’s brutal walking in because it’s not that bad until you get waist or chest high. That’s when you’re deep enough and in long enough to know how awful it’s gonna be to dive in. My swim partners said that showing up at the lake was 75% of the battle. I think the battle is more about when I’m in the water, I know how cold it is, and that I’m going in no matter what.

It was cold outside today, and there were pretty big waves. I was already really cold sitting on the beach, taking off my gear. But my sicko runner’s brain from long ago will not let me not get in. And once I dove in I was fine. Every surface of my body felt it, but it didn’t sting my face or arms. It was just all-around cold. And so quickly, I was swimming and exploring and looking for all my lake floor landmarks. Then the cold went away. Once I’m in, I don’t want to get out.

The waves where so big and strong that I wasn’t sure which direction to go. they shorts guy stuck to the shallow end, swimming back and forth, occasionally standing up. my buddy went diagonally toward the cement dock. I went straight into the waves because I didn’t know what else to do. Those first few minutes are so exhilerating that I don’t really think about anything but moving my arms and legs so that I am MOVING. Like if I didn’t move the cold would paralyze me, and I’d sink to the bottom.

The great thing about using a snorkel is that I can just swim, swim, swim without having to look up, turn my neck, whatever. So I went right into the waves and ended up probably swimming a bit diagonally, too. It was hard going against the water, but I could feel my arm muscles working. I wondered how long I’d last. When I pulled up to “site” I was a good distance past the cement dock. That always makes me happy. It means that since I started a few months ago, the environment has become more challenging but I have improved anyway. A huge victory for someone with all my health issues and a bum leg.

I decided to swim to the cement and back, but swimming parallel to the beach didn’t work; the waves were almost rolling me over. So I went farther out into the deep water, then turned around and swam back at an angle. So much easier heading back in with the waves pushing me forward. At one point, my swim buoy got picked up by the water and plopped onto my shoulders. For a split second I pretended it was a fur seal, but I knew what it was. I just kept going because that’s what I do in the water. I don’t think, I don’t worry, I don’t do anything but move forward or float or tread water. Well, I do keep alert enough to put my head up and look around for my swim buddy every now and then.

It was a bit worrisome when I didn’t immediately see her buoy, so I grabbed mine and treaded water until I spotted her. Then I looked for the shorts guy, still in the shallow end. When I reached the cement block I used the bars and did five pull-ups, then another five. I had to flutter kick to keep my feet under my body. The water and the waves force my body into a 90 degree angle. I don’t care. I do the pull-ups, and they count. ‘Cause I could be sitting on my ass at home.

Then I swim my angle back out into deeper water. The seaweed, even the icky brown stuff, doesn’t scare me anymore. I don’t care. I’m just scanning the lake floor, always looking for treasure, noting the schools of tiny fish, not even worried that I might run into Mr. Big. I never see the 4-6″ fish. Where are they? Too cold? Left for deeper water? Muerte?

I have searched the beach a few times, hoping to find my knife and case, but it’s never there. Need to let that go, but it bothers me that I lost it. At one point, my swim buddy and I were about 15-20′ apart. We both grabbed our buoys so we could float and talk for a second. I had to take out my snorkel, which is actually hard becuase I need both hands to get my buoy in front of me and get my arms around it. we decided to swim for another 10 minutes. We both agreed teh water felt amazing. No pain. Not even cold.

She took off in her direction, and I headed back to the cement dock, did my pull-ups, then made my way to the beach with the waves rolling over me. It’s tricky getting out of the water ’cause the bottom is all large round rocks that shift with every step. You have to keep a wide stance and wait for your foot to settle into the rocks before taking another step. It takes forever. And then you get to the beach, and is so f-ing cold. Awful cold. And I’m essentially naked with some wet nylon clinging to my body. The shorts guy was like, “this is the worst part. it’s so much colder now.” This is the coldest it’s been outside, and he was right. It’s like walking outside all wet on a winter day. The experienced swimmers are teaching me to get a huge fluffy long top/tunic so I can put it on immediately, strip of the suit, and put on dry things. They actually make such garments exactly for this purpose, and I’m gonna git one! Today I at least remembered to bring a wool cap. But it might have been a mistake to take the warm shower there before putting on dry clothes over my wet suit/self. I hurried home, got in the shower, and got into my yak wool hoody (that the f-ing moths ate huge holes in) and sweat pants. then got under my quit and sleeping bag…where I stsayed for an hour.

Now it is hours and hours later, and I’m still feeling the memory of the cold air hitting my wet body even though I’m perfectly warm. it doesn’t make me want to stop swimming; it only makes me want to stop getting out of the water. #openswimming

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